Highland Queen

by Melanie Karsak

  I shook my head, a million emotions flowing through me at once. “Sid.”

  “Have you met Flidas?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what did you think?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I’ll take her to bed while you’re gone. At least it will help me feel less lonely.”

  “Sid,” I said with a shake of the head.

  Sid paused then and took my face into her hands. “I love you, Cerridwen.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Now go say goodbye to Crearwy. And come back soon.”

  “Sid, I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

  At that, Sid laughed loudly. “We all make mistakes, Cerridwen. Who can see them at the moment they’re made? Now, go on.”

  Sighing, I reluctantly rose. I pulled on my coat and headed outside to find Epona and Crearwy sitting on the bench near the fire. Epona was holding the same counting board she had used to teach me. My heart was warmed by the sight.

  “Here she is,” Sid called. “And as I told you both, she must go.”

  Crearwy looked up at me, a stormy expression on her face. She set her own counting board down then stormed off in the direction of the barn.

  Leaning on her staff, Epona rose. She watched Crearwy go.

  “Sid, are you sure I must leave?” I asked.

  Sid nodded. “Yes.”

  I sighed.

  “Tully has saddled your horse,” Epona said, motioning to the blood bay—Swift—who stood looking at me. “Please make sure Druanne and Uald return safely.”

  “Of course,” I said then pulled Epona into a hug. She was so frail, so small. I could scarcely believe it. “Banquo may come here if he doesn’t stop at the keep first,” I told Epona.

  She looked at Sid.

  “I’ll fetch him and put him on a new route. Let’s see if he wants to have some fun before I set him free. Would you mind, raven beak?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’ll leave that for him to decide. I must see to Crearwy,” I said, motioning to the barn.

  Epona nodded.

  Sid wrapped her arm around Epona’s waist and set her head on Epona’s shoulder. “Just moments. Always, just moments,” Sid whispered.

  “That is the way of life. In the end, it was all just a moment.”

  “End? Not yet, horse lady. Come, let’s have a look at Cerridwen’s bloody beast.”

  When I entered the barn, I paused and listened. The horses and goats turned and looked at me, all of them hopeful for something to eat. She wasn’t here. I then heard the sound of soft crying coming from the smithy. Crossing the barn, I found her sitting beside Uald’s cold forge. She was weeping quietly, her head cradled in her arms

  “Crearwy,” I said softly.

  “How can you go?” she demanded, turning to me, her face red with fury. “How can you just leave? You just got here. I never see you. It’s like you never wanted me, only Lulach. How can you just leave?”

  “I don’t want to go. Nadia said Madelaine needs me. Tavis—you will not know him, but he was like a father to me—is gravely ill. Madelaine needs me.”

  “I need you!”

  “Crearwy—”

  “Take me with you. I want to come. I don’t want to be here. I want to be with you.”

  “You are loved and safe.”

  “Yes, yes, yes. I know. I’m safe. But safe from what?”

  “From terrors you cannot imagine. From pain you cannot imagine. Please believe me, I would never leave you for any other reason.”

  “But Lulach can go? Lulach can be out there. Lulach can be a prince.”

  “Lulach is with the druids right now.”

  At that, Crearwy threw up her hands. “So, he gets to do both? That’s fair?”

  “It’s different for women. Things are not fair, not equal, in the world outside this place. Macbeth is a lunatic. I will not let him have any say over your fate.”

  “Then don’t. Tell him no. I am Gillacoemgain’s daughter, not his.”

  I smiled at her. “You are. Had your father lived, things would have been so different, but—”

  “But he didn’t live. He died. Your husband killed him. You married the man who killed my father! How could you?”

  “Crearwy, it’s difficult to explain.”

  “Don’t explain anything to me. Just leave. Just go. You don’t want to be here anyway. Go away, and don’t come back.”

  Full of fury, she shoved Uald’s tools to the ground then took off in a sprint, leaving me to stand there not knowing what to do. Tears welled in my eyes. Crearwy was right to be angry, and I had no good answers for her. She was too young to know the terrible things that had happened. How could I explain it to her?

  A moment later, someone approached me from behind. “I’ll go after her,” Aridmis said, setting her hand on my shoulder.

  I looked at my old friend. “Aridmis, I…”

  “She will forgive you in time,” Aridmis reassured me. “She will need to forgive all of us, in time. Be well, Cerridwen,” she said then headed into the forest after my child.

  My heart heavy, I rejoined Sid and Epona. Epona wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  “Children get angry with their parents. Parents get angry with their children. It is the way of things,” Sid said. “For instance, I understand that Eochaid once spent a year in Moray, but he never bothered to tell his mother. Seems a kind lady there looked after him. Have anything to say about that, raven beak?”

  “Only that I hope he is well, and I send him my love.”

  Sid shook her head.

  I climbed on my horse and settled in.

  Epona reached out and took my hand. “There are too many words, and I cannot find the right ones.”

  “I will see you again,” I told her.

  She nodded softly then let me go.

  I looked back toward the smithy once more. There was no sign of Crearwy or Aridmis. Feeling miserable and completely unsure what to do, I tapped my horse’s reins and rode out of the coven, hoping that Sid was right.

  One day, I hoped Crearwy would understand and forgive me.

  Chapter 19

  I kept my focus on the path forward: nine oak, nine ash, nine thorn. Soon, I made my way to the glen Madelaine, Tavis, and I had visited when the Goddess called me to come to the coven. So much life had passed since then.

  The moon was climbing into the sky. It cast a silvery sheen on the water, the stars glowing like gems on the surface of the loch.

  Pulling Swift to a stop, I gazed out at the placid surface. I thought about everything that lay in front of me. There was so much to do. So much to consider. But all I really wanted was to turn around and ride back to the coven.

  Crearwy was not wrong.

  I had a lot to answer for.

  I had done my best for her, made the best choices I could based on what I knew. If I had suspected that Gillacoemgain was truly her father, things might have been different. I might have made different decisions, which could have changed both our fates. But I hadn’t.

  A cold wind swept across the water. I shuddered. As I gazed down the shoreline of the loch, I realized there was a man standing there.

  Setting my hand on my blade, I turned Swift and rode toward the figure.

  There was something strange about the man. When the wind blew, his wraps twisted in an odd manner.

  Swift took a deep breath and snorted as if he didn’t like what he saw. He stepped higher, his gait telling me that he was ready to bolt at any moment.

  “Easy,” I told the horse. “Don’t you dare knock me on my ass while I’m with child, or I’ll have you roasted for dinner.”

  At that, he snorted.

  The wind blew once more. While the apple tree nearby was vacant of blossoms, I distinctly caught the scent of the spring flowers on the wind.

  The figure stepped toward me.

  I gasped.

  Tavis.

  “Tavis?” I called.

  He lifted his ha
nd. It was at that moment that I realized I was seeing him and seeing through him all at once.

  “Tavis,” I whispered, my hand covering my mouth.

  He smiled softly. The wind blew once more, carrying with it the smell of apple blossoms, then Tavis disappeared.

  “Oh, Great Mother, watch over him. Farewell, friend,” I whispered, tears slipping down my cheeks. I tapped Swift’s reins and turned him in the direction of Madelaine’s castle.

  Nadia was right.

  I needed to get to Madelaine.

  Riding as quickly as I dared, I reached the castle late in the night. Ute met me in the hall. Her face looked pale and drawn. There were dark rings under her eyes.

  “Ute,” I said, rushing quickly across the hall.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Gruoch. The lady you brought is a very talented healer, but it was too late.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Upstairs with Madelaine. She’s…inconsolable. It’s good you came back.”

  Ute and I went upstairs to Madelaine’s chamber. Inside, I heard Uald’s voice.

  I entered at once.

  Madelaine’s face was deathly white, her eyes ringed red. She rose when she saw me. “Corbie,” she wailed. She rushed to me, wrapping her arms around me. She buried her head in my neck. “He’s gone,” she whispered. “He’s gone.”

  “Oh, Madelaine,” I said, unable to choke back my own tears. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Whatever will I do?” she whispered.

  I hugged her tight but didn’t answer. There was no good reply to her question.

  Madelaine shuddered and wept miserably.

  Eventually, Uald rose and took Madelaine from my grasp. “Come. You’ll make yourself sick,” she said then helped Madelaine back into her seat. Uald turned to Ute. “Is there any mead about?”

  “Yes, my la—I mean, Uald.”

  “Let’s have some. All of us.”

  “I’ll fetch it,” Ute said then left the chamber.

  I cast a glance at Druanne who, much to my surprise, looked very sorrowful.

  “I’m sorry,” she told me. “I did everything I could think of. He must have been out there for days. His blood was poisoned. There was no stopping it.”

  Swallowing hard, I crossed the room and set my hand on Druanne’s shoulder. “Thank you, Druanne. Thank you for trying.”

  She nodded then dabbed a tear from her eye.

  Uald sighed then took a drink from her tankard. “There’s ale,” she told me, pointing to a pitcher.

  I shook my head.

  “Well, now that Corbie’s here, we should return in the morning,” Uald told Druanne. “Epona will be worried.”

  “Take a wagon. You need to take supplies from the kitchen,” I said then turned to Madelaine. “They need whatever you can spare.”

  Madelaine nodded mutely.

  “Epona’s calculations were…off. And our crops didn’t grow as they should have this year,” Uald explained.

  “Epona’s state…there are no words for my shock,” I said.

  Uald nodded. “We are all in shock.”

  Druanne shook her head. “After all these years, to see her magic leave her like that. It’s…disquieting.”

  Druanne was right. If the gods would abandon Epona in such a way after she had dedicated her entire life to them, what did it mean for the rest of us?

  I sat down next to Madelaine and took her hand.

  Tears streamed down her face, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Tavis will be sent to the gods in the morning,” Uald told me. “Ute arranged it.”

  I nodded.

  Madelaine moaned.

  “Druanne,” I said, turning to her. “Can you fix Madelaine something? Something to help calm her?”

  “Of course,” Druanne replied. She went to her cases sitting near the bed. She dipped into her box and pulled out a number of pouches. I watched her as she worked, recognizing some of the herbs. She was grinding herbs to help Madelaine sleep and to calm her mind. She wore them down into a fine powder then mixed the concoction in water. She handed the drink to Madelaine. “Drink it all.”

  Madelaine took the cup and mutely drank.

  I passed Druanne a grateful look.

  She inclined her head to me then went to clean up her tools.

  Ute returned not long after, carrying a tray.

  “Lady Gruoch,” she said, motioning behind her.

  I rose.

  Killian stood in the hallway. “Lady Gruoch,” he said.

  I followed Killian into the hallway, closing the door behind me.

  “Killian, thank you for seeing them safely here.”

  He nodded. “I would have returned to escort you back. I wish you had waited.”

  “I was safe. But thank you.”

  “I am sorry about your friend. I remember him from Moray. He was there with Lord Lulach. He seemed to be a good man.”

  “He was.”

  “Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do for you…Gruoch?” he said, reaching out to gently take my hand.

  I was so surprised by the gesture, I didn’t know what to say. “I… No, Killian. Thank you,” I said, pulling my hand back. “We will leave in a few days. Take some rest.”

  He inclined his head. “If there is anything you need or want, please don’t hesitate to ask me.”

  “Thank you.”

  Leaving him, I returned to the chamber. Uald had poured us all a glass of mead. “Let’s toast,” Uald said, lifting her glass. “To Tavis, a fine man, companion, a great hunter, and a friend.”

  Madelaine choked back a sob.

  “To Tavis,” we said, lifting our drinks.

  Mindful of my little one, I sipped just a little in Tavis’ honor.

  Uald polished off her drink then set her cup own. She turned to Druanne. “Another?”

  Druanne shook her head. “No. I need to get some sleep. I confess I’m weary.”

  “If you’re ready, my lady, I can escort you to your chamber,” Ute told her.

  Druanne rose. She went to Madelaine and wrapped her arms around her, squeezing her tight. Afterward, she departed with Ute.

  “What about you?” I asked Uald. “Maybe you should rest as well.”

  “No. I’ll stay here with Madelaine and finish this bottle,” she said, lifting the jug of mead.

  Madelaine smiled weakly. “You’ll be on the floor by morning.”

  “Your floor looks softer than my bed. I can’t remember the last time I was in this castle.”

  “We were girls. Boite was here.”

  “Oh, now, Boite I remember. The castle was nothing compared to him.”

  Setting down my cup, I unhooked my belt and slid off the raven-capped dagger. I crossed the room and handed it to Uald.

  She rose. “Corbie, where did you get this?” she asked, her voice full of awe.

  Madelaine squinted. “Is that…is that the raven dagger?”

  I nodded. Uald turned the dagger over in her hand, studying her smith mark. She touched it gently.

  “Boite,” she whispered.

  “Wherever did you find it?” Madelaine asked.

  “On Duncan. I took it from him then used it to carve out his heart. He told me it was a gift from Malcolm.”

  Madelaine stared at me, her eyes wide.

  “You took it from him in battle?” Uald asked.

  “Yes. And now it has come home to you once more. Keep it.”

  “No. It should be yours. Lulach’s.”

  “No. You keep it.”

  Uald wrapped her hand around the sheath and pressed the blade against her chest. “I think we may need another bottle to get through this night. But, Corbie, aren’t you drinking,” she said, eyeing my still-full cup.

  “No,” I said with a sigh then sat back down. “I’m pregnant with the Thane of Lochaber’s child.”

  At that, Uald laughed out loud. In spite of herself, Madelaine chuckled.

  Uald poured hers
elf another glass then refilled Madelaine’s cup.

  “Well then,” Uald said. “Let us toast once more. To Boite and his grandchild.”

  Madelaine and I lifted our cups then drank.

  I stayed with Madelaine and Uald until Madelaine couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore, Druanne’s concoction working on her. Uald, on the other hand, drank herself blind and fell asleep—or unconsciousness from drink—on the floor.

  “No sleeping on the stones,” I told Uald, lifting her off the floor. With a heave, I moved her toward Madelaine’s bed.

  “Corbie,” she whispered, her voice coming out a slur.

  “Yes, Uald?”

  “I loved your daddy.”

  “So I figured.”

  “Never found another man I liked after Boite.”

  “Just think, you could have been my mother,” I said, giving her another shove as I rolled her onto the bed beside Madelaine.

  Uald laughed loudly then fell back into a drunken sleep once more.

  I covered them then went out to the hall where I found Camden, one of my guards, waiting for me.

  “My queen,” he said, bowing to me.

  “I’m for bed,” I told him.

  He nodded then escorted me to my chamber. “I’ll be here until dawn, Your Majesty. Someone else will come then.”

  “Thank you,” I said then went inside.

  Sighing, I lay down to rest. I felt dizzy from exhaustion and too tired to change. Lying down, I studied the gloves that had come from the Unseelie Queen. Closing my eyes, I reached out to the other world. I tried to feel the fey there. Their magic was chaotic and foreign to me, but I could sense their presence.

  “Many thanks, Great Lady,” I whispered.

  What the dark fey wanted from me, I had no idea. Perhaps it was just as Sid said. One day, I would join the Wyrds.

  One day.

  Maybe.

  If I ever had the heart to forgive Andraste.

  Chapter 20

  I rose the next morning to a familiar warble in my bedchamber; Ute was singing. I had missed her companionate presence.

  “Good morning, Ute.”

  “Gruoch. Good morning to you.”

  Groggily, I rose to see it wasn’t long past sunrise.